


Stuck In Space

by Houjuu



Series: Stohn Oneshots [4]
Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sharing a bed prompt, romantic, stohn, the fate of ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houjuu/pseuds/Houjuu
Summary: Nine and John are forced into sharing a bed together





	Stuck In Space

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick fic I wrote based on the ever so popular OTP prompt, enjoy!

“Can you _please_ stop rolling around so much? You're going to shove me off.”

  
“How about _you_ go ahead, shrink to the size of a cat, and shut up.”

“You should have shared a bed with Sam, he's practically half your size.”

“I am not touching him. I don't know where those little dweeb hands have been. Poor Six has to live with that those germs-”

“Don't talk about Sam like that.”

“Fine fine Mommy dear, fuck,” Nine scoffed. John could hear the impatience drip from every syllable. He certainly didn’t feel any better either.

Beat.

“Well, Dani on the other ha- ow, fuck, what was that for?!”

“I am not in the mood for you or your shit.”

For some stupid reason, they were only allowed to have three of the military cots total. John understood with the amount of wounded soldiers since the last attack on the city but he had a good reason to be bitter. Daniela, naturally, got her own, immediately towing it away to another room to avoid them. Sam took the second one and hurried away with an apologetic smile.

“You got your little nap earlier, now I get my own bed!” Sam knew his cards very well and the right moves to make when it came to playing John.

That had left John to having to share a brittle, metal bedspread with Nine. What he didn't like was the lack of space and how self centered Nine took even his sleeping habits. John doesn't remember when they laid down to sleep but Nine has stretched and smacked him square in the nose at least five times and his legs keeps ending up somewhere far too intimate.

It wasn’t that John was complaining about where Nine’s touch ended up, it was more so how accidental everything was. When John pulled himself back together with the intention of sleeping, Nine’s knee would appear between his legs and all effort was lost. When they both laid, facing the same direction, Nine’s breath was heavy against the back of John’s neck in a way that only made things far more uncomfortable.

They tried to flip over, laying in the same direction with John facing Nine’s back instead but still with little to no avail. A boy could only tuck his legs in so far before worrying how far his toes were allowed to stretch between his friend’s calves. Now the two of them faced upwards, staring up at a tile ceiling like it had an all knowing solution to their problem. Why didn’t Nine just sleep up there? John was convinced it’s entirely to piss him off more than the other Garde already did.

“Johnny, I sure hope that's your leg again and not something else.”

“Nine, I’m not even facing you.”

“Well I mean, if you're up for that. I know I'm a bit out of practice-”

“Not interested.” He was sort of interested. He just happened to know Nine a lot better than that.

“Masturbation just doesn't do an-”

John decided he couldn’t take it anymore and sat up. He wound his fist up and smacked Nine’s bare arm as hard as he could without pushing the Garde off the bed or breaking a bone. It was tempting but John was actually above fist fighting with his friends. He could deal with healing Nine when he threw his tantrums but he wasn’t going to patch himself up for losing his cool after being able to keep himself collected when dealing with the older Garde.

Too bad he might end up with a fight after all. Nine didn't recoil, he twisted around in a flash and snatched John’s hand before he could pull it back to the safety of his side of the cot and retreat into his position.

“Cheap shot but ultimately useless,” Nine smirked. He knew exactly what to say to get John to react; John wasn't going to be beaten like this. He tries to yank his wrist backwards, pulling himself towards Nine in the process. They faces were mere inches away, close enough that John felt a touch of the dusting that was Nine’s breath against his cheekbones. His blue eyes met Nine’s exactly as his friend’s dark eyes widened slightly. He could have sworn he saw the faintest beginning of red start to form on the other boy’s cheeks. John didn’t blame him; though he couldn’t feel the heat, he could only imagine the cherry color his face must be from being this close.

The blonde Garde tried to escape Nine’s grasp once more. He pushed off of the cot with his other hand, shifting his weight so he was sitting up to gain a bit of an advantage. His free hand reached to grab Nine’s outstretched arm, trying to dislodge the one that secured itself around John’s other wrist but another swift movement from Nine has him brought him downwards, crashing against Nine’s chest.

His face lands in the space between Nine’s neck and shoulder, flooding him in the smell of salt and sweat. As John attempts to push up and away from Nine’s grip, his lips brush the faintest touch against Nine’s skin. He freezes at the low growl that follows. He didn’t mean for that to happen.

John lets out a sharp breath into the soft skin of Nine’s neck. It earns him a short hiss. He gives himself the count to three softly in his head before pulling his weight upwards and out of Nine’s tight grasp. His knee hits the thick mattress of the cot but gives him the support he needs to sit up just that bit further. He lets his gaze drop down.

He has Nine underneath him, looking as confused as John felt flustered. He had one leg swung around Nine’s hip, with one hand still immobilized by Nine while the other was palmed next to Nine’s neck. His grasp was still firm around John’s wrist but his other hand found a place on the small of John’s back, balled up in the thick fabric of John’s shirt. They lock eyes for a moment with the hand of John’s back tightening its grip. John opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he is still at a loss. How did this happen? Nine’s other hand suddenly lets go of John’s wrist and slowly drops back towards him

“What are yo-” John mumbled the beginnings of a quick question out before Nine’s grip tightens once again, his floating hand settling on his side. John let out a surprised sound as he was lifted and flipped over onto his back. His eyes fluttered closed as he let out a second grunt when his back hit the stiff mattress and the thin sheet rubbed against his arms.

He cracked open his eyelids and stared. He could feel Nine’s weight holding him to the bed, his hands pinning John’s wrists above his head with ease. His long black hair hung, clinging to his forehead with sweat while the ends were brushing gently against John’s face. His breath came out in short bursts. They hadn’t really exercised a lot of work, what could have winded Nine so much?

Unless.

Not only was it unfair for the two tallest Garde to share a tiny mattress, it was far more unfair to John that it had to be with Nine. He's been actively denying his attraction to his friend for weeks now and no avail. He couldn't give Nine anymore of a boost in his self confidence that he already had. This little scrimmage just made everything more complicated. He knew the look in Nine’s eye when he was interested in someone else, practically had how the brown colors mix memorized to the angle of his flirty smirk. He showed it off to Six every once and a while, and in the beginning before, to Marina.

Not him. Not that he had a reason to really be upset by it. Even so, it wore deep. He hasn’t had an attraction like this to anyone else before, not even Sarah came close to whatever this was.

John couldn’t find a word to speak, he just stared up and into Nine’s dark eyes. He lost himself there. In the dark, he could only catch a sliver of their brown color but even with that, the emotion that thrived there was unreadable. They were intense, flickering and teasing the feeling that John longed to be able to read.

It happened in an instant. Nine’s head dips and presses his lips to John’s as fast as he pulls away and releases John. He lays in shock. Nine has to know what he did.

“Fuck,” the other boy hisses, crawling off of John. Nine rubs his arm where John’s fist originally connected as it has begun to bruise. He stayed upright in the cot but he kept his eyes away from John.

John stayed down on the thin sheeted cot, completely stunned. Confused. He wanted to roll onto his side and ignore whatever it was that just happened but he stayed still on his back. John kept his eyes up at the other Garde, catching the faint outline of his muscular form. He wants to sit up, to return the favor and make it last, more than ever. It feels like it might start taking his might to keep him still against the bed but much of John was still shook.

“Well…you… wanted to do that a few seconds ago, what happened,” John murmured, finally once again finding his voice. That earned a snort from Nine. The other boy turned his head but in the darkness John only was able to read his movement by the swish of his hair as it brushed against his back.

“You're the only person who could ever turn me off, Johnny Boy,” Nine countered with a quiet sneer.

But he continued to keep his eyes off of John. He acted like it didn’t happen, as he appeared to act as though John hadn’t heard his voice shake with his insult.

John rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. All of the raw, emotive energy from just before appeared to be gone. He was far too tired to deal with Nine’s antics now. If they were ten, they would be wrestling until the other screamed for mercy before being pushed off onto the hard floor. He could picture Henri storming in and scolding the two of them and ordering them to behave. John can almost see the two of them rolling their eyes in unison, he can almost hear younger Nine’s whiny comeback over how unfair Cepans were about our games and how Henri has no say in what he can do. John then lets himself create a tall, dark haired man in a suit that he can call Sandor who peeks out from behind his own Cepan’s back with a thumbs up and a sly wink.

It just sounded too… Real.

Even if they were still on Lorien, with parents and the potential of living on opposite ends of the planet, John thinks he and Nine would have found their way back to each other no matter what. They fit together too well. Nine’s rash arrogance and quick mind was balanced out by his need to organize and over caution. There was a reason they couldn't be held down when they fought together. There was just so much that Nine and John could get away when they were with the other. The two of them seemed to face almost everything together recently, not even Sam has been as present in John’s life as of recent.

“You didn’t seem that way a couple seconds ago,” John retorts to himself. His fuzzy image of a tall man in a suit with a glass of wine was still prominent in his thoughts. Until Nine came out and said it himself, to John it would be obvious why Nine would push everyone out.

When he starts to roll over, all intention of pushing Nine out himself, a tan hand slaps down hard on the cot next to John’s chest. He opens his mouth and turns to make another snide comment the exact moment Nine’s lips come in for another kiss. Only this time he doesn’t pull away at the first contact.

He knots a hand in the front of John’s shirt while the other snakes underneath his tense form and grips his lower back. Nine pulls John up off the bed so they’re sitting on an equal plain, not once hesitating from his place against John’s mouth. John feels himself melt under the soft, moist skin, desperately grabbing at any part of Nine that will hold him upright. His arms are wrapped around him, fingers dragging against the Garde’s back.They graze every muscle with a need, clawing to feel more. Nine’s tongue caresses John’s lips softly but doesn’t attempt to move any further, his hands moving to feel John’s form all over. One of Nine’s hands ventures up and nestles into the short blonde strands of John’s hair, tugging just enough to cause a low moan.

When Nine breaks the kiss, it is like an eternity passed. John keeps his eyes closed, listening to the mixed noise of Nine and himself panting. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Nine’s chin.

“So… that just turned you off so badly, eh,” John exhales, still catching himself. He takes note of where Nine’s hands are still on him, how they glided over his skin only seconds ago. His own are arms still tightly embracing the body in front of him, ready to go again.

“Do you ever shut up,” Nine counters in a breathless tone.

“Not until I get my answer,” John replied, pulling his head up from its resting place to meet Nine’s eyes.

“And you’re not getting one,” Nine grunts, lowering his head. He plants a kiss against John’s neck, causing him to let out a quiet gasp. “I don’t know what this is.”

“Well… I like it so you can keep doing it,” John chuckles when Nine backs away with an eyebrow cocked. Tonight there wasn’t going to be a lot of talking. Tonight was about the play, the rush that this level of intimacy gave them as their only guide. They were in this together.

Nine sighs.

“Let’s just get this over with, I want to hear how well those smart mouth comments sound when you’re moaning them.”


End file.
